Death Of The Property Hipster

Finally, it's over. The last mouthful of overpriced craft beer has been swilled, the carefully curled 'stache has been slashed and the pop-up tattoo parlour is eerily empty.
The hipster is dead.
Good riddance. From the real estate perspective, the cliché-ridden counter culture character known as the hipster has been a blight on the entire industry.
Sure, the chronically hip may have had an alibi for their absence in the form of the global financial crisis, claiming it drove them straight down the road of ruin – no dough for the inner-city condo or converted loft in the pre-gentrification neighbourhood – but real estate as we know it has had to look elsewhere for a home during these dark days.
Indeed, hipsters at best are the lowest form of real estate reptile – they rent. Lounge lizards is perhaps the apt term to describe their existence.
Thankfully, the great year of 2015 has welcomed the fall of hipsterdom. They have been banished to that dim netherworld where Donald Trump stores his extra hairpieces. Deep underground, deeper, in fact, than that proposed tunnel from China to the US.
And now for the good news – yuccies, enter, stage left!
Yuccies, for those not in the know are young urban creatives. They may share borderline traits, such as an appreciation of craftsmanship, or the search for an authentic experience, with the dearly departed hipster, but there's no dark side (not yet, anyway). Apparently greed is an intrinsic part of the yuccie – more Gordon Gekko, less Llewyn Davis.
The good old days of greed and consumerism are back and the property industry is frantically rubbing its hands in anticipation.
Spanking new houses, condos and even exotic surreal estate investments are all being lined up. The edge is back on the razor, and, yes, yuccies do shave daily.
Equally stunning news is the demise of the terrible tattoos.
At the top end of the market, these young urban types, whether they're successful tech startup founders, creative entrepreneurs or owners of trust fund financed Peruvian restaurant and speakeasy bars, tend to be loaded with cash. Real estate is no doubt anxiously waiting, cheap bouquet in hand, at the station as the money train, replete with yuccies, rolls in.
Okay, my worldview may be jaded. But let's face it, a few years from now, historians will be desperately erasing any evidence of the age of the hipster. Hell, those beards were just too reminiscent of Charlie Manson for me.
As for the yuccie craze, I like it, but somehow can't get my head around how to pronounce it. Is it 'yucky', like, disgusting or, 'yucy', as in Lucy?
I guess small details such as this are important while we continue to live in a world where everything must be labelled and hastagged. Hash me baby and double down. As for the down-and-out hipsters, they too have a chance at redemption. All it takes is tube of Burma-Shave and a quick visit (by which I mean a laborious and incredibly painful trip) to the laser technician.